American Elsewhere - By Robert Jackson Bennett Page 0,50

to do the talking for her, but when they finally ask her a direct question it’s one Mona’s been dreading all along:

“So, Mona, any plans to settle down?” asks one, who Mona thinks is named Barbara. “I know you’re young, but don’t wait too long.”

The statement puts a bad taste in Mona’s mouth, but she still tries to smile. “I’m not that young,” she says. “I’m almost forty.”

“What!” cries Barbara. “Almost forty! You don’t look a day over twenty-seven! What is your secret? You have to tell me. I’ll bend your arm if you don’t.” The other women nod. Some even look insulted to hear her true age.

It is not a new response to Mona, who has watched friends grow gray and lined while she stays the same, more or less. She knows she’s lucky, but she’s never figured out why. Her mother and father looked well over their ages, but then one drank himself to sleep every night and the other was schizophrenic, so that doesn’t mean much.

“Just genes, I guess. I can’t say it’s clean living.”

“Well, it’s high time someone snatches you up,” says another, a platinum blonde who might be named Alice. “I notice there’s no ring on that finger…”

Mona tries to smile again, but it comes out as a grimace. “Well. There was, once.”

Discomfort flutters through them, the first time on this sunny afternoon. “You mean you were engaged, and it was… called off?”

“No,” says Mona. “I was married. But we divorced,” she says, before they ask if her husband died, which is probably a more pleasant alternative to them.

“Ah,” says Barbara. Some of the women grow very still. The others are exchanging glances. After a few beats of silence, the subject is forcefully changed and the flow of conversation resumes burbling cheerily along, though now far fewer questions are directed to Mona.

Yet Mrs. Benjamin does not react at all to this news. In fact, she hasn’t done much all throughout the luncheon besides pass food around and watch Mona. Mona begins to find it very unsettling, for every time she looks up, Mrs. Benjamin is watching her with a small smile.

It’s not until the luncheon’s over and everyone is leaving that Mrs. Benjamin speaks to her: “If you could please stay behind, dear, I would appreciate it. I feel like we have a little to discuss.”

Mona obliges, loitering on her porch while Mrs. Benjamin sees the other guests out. When she returns, the small, clever smile is back on her face. “Did you enjoy yourself?”

“It was certainly…” She trails off, wondering how to finish.

“Awful?” suggests Mrs. Benjamin.

Mona is not sure what to say, but Mrs. Benjamin just laughs. “Oh, don’t look so concerned, my girl. Anyone with sense can see they’re a bunch of empty-headed fools. That’s why I didn’t give them any of the good tea.” She winks.

“Then why did you have them over at all?” asks Mona, irritated.

“Oh, just to spite them, I suppose,” says Mrs. Benjamin vaguely. “Stir up trouble. They can’t stand one another’s company, you see. I have to get my amusement somehow.”

“And you brought me in to stir up more trouble?”

“No. I wanted to see how you’d handle them.”

Mona stops. Takes a breath. She then says, “Ma’am, I admit I do not understand the intricacies of your social spheres here, and to be honest I really do not wish to. But one thing that I really, really do not want for you to do is involve me in them for what seems to be no damn reason at all. And, believe me, you do not want that either, though you will have to trust me on that.”

“Oh, please hold on. I didn’t intend to be cruel. I just wanted to see how you’d be fitting in here.”

“Well, I will guess that I will fit in quite shittily, but that’s my problem and none of yours. Now… you got me here under the pretense of answering a few questions about the town, and my mother,” says Mona. “Can I ask you those questions?”

“Oh, certainly,” says Mrs. Benjamin, miffed. “Fire away, dear.”

They sit down on the porch and she tells Mrs. Benjamin about how she inherited the house, and her very strange trip here. When she finishes her story Mrs. Benjamin stays quiet for a long, long time. “Hmm,” she says finally. “Well. I’ll say again that I have no memory of a Laura Alvarez living or working in Wink.”

“I’ve got photos of her living in my house,” says Mona.

“From when?”